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December 7 (Diary) Walking in a residential area

Cloudy, windy.

Today, again, I go out of my way to walk where I could take the bus. Lately, I like walking in residential areas.

As I walk around residential areas here and there, I gradually come to understand my own preferences. I have a standard for what I don’t want to live in this neighborhood and what I would like to live in this neighborhood.

Even the most ordinary residential area has its own unique atmosphere. I guess I like to sense the slight differences.

Sometimes I find a small shopping street, a pharmacy, a supermarket, and so on. Some are deserted, some are trendy. There are also some snack bars with strange names.

If I had been born in this area, I would have come to this store, which makes me feel strange. I even feel as if I had lived here. I might have eaten takoyaki (octopus balls), bought flowers there, and sang karaoke at the counter.

Today, I was in a residential area with a few factories. It was a town that felt a little deserted, somehow suited to the twilight of a winter’s day.

Under the setting sun, a young worker of Southeast Asian descent was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the factory, eating his lunch alone. He looked so lonely that I couldn’t help but want to eat alongside him.

It is at times like this that poetry comes to mind, and I feel like twisting a haiku. Perhaps the result will be something like the twilight of a winter’s day.

A wabish day to think of hometown in the twilight

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I write poetry and novels that can be read by young children. Literature is the strongest.

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